


Fool's Gold

by victoridiaz



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ghost Stories, Ghost Towns, Gold Rush, Mountains, Short Story, even though its june, kinda halloweeny, spooky times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:49:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoridiaz/pseuds/victoridiaz
Summary: There was a sickness here - it lay over the basin like a blanket, seeping into the cracks between the rocks, and the spaces under my nails. It was ancient, metallic - it ran through the earth, through the air, through the water.Another ghost story, this time with mountains and old timey ghosts. Heavily inspired by an old silver mine near where I live, which is abandoned and very high up in the mountains.





	Fool's Gold

Insects droned in the hot summer air. I clapped my hands over my ears, but the pulsing drawl of the bugs seemed to seep into my brain. It had to be almost evening. I fiddled with the iron nails in my pocket, trying not to come across as nervous. I didn’t want to panic, but I had a right to be wary - dusk in the mountains brought the risk of bears, cougars, and other nighttime creatures that emerged when twilight fell. Being caught out at night held the risk of getting hopelessly lost, or worse. I tried to force it out of my mind, but the oscillating sound of the insects continued.

It had been a quiet day for the area. Usually, handfuls of hikers came eagerly to these mountains, seeking beautiful views and remote backcountry, but with smoke from nearby fires and hot summer weather, people were less keen to hike out.

It hadn’t stopped Charles and I, however, from coming. We had driven all the way out the long, bumpy road, then suffered the walk through difficult terrain in the heat, and it had taken us all day. 

“I could swear the trail was back this way.” 

Charles’ voice made me jump. I’d been momentarily transfixed by the sound of the insects. 

“We’ve been walking this way for hours,” I exclaimed, looking around to where my partner was standing on a rock. All I could see surrounding us were meadows blanketed with orange grass, a few alpine larch glowing in the hazy air, and the peaks of the mountains that dominated the skyline. The heat of late summer lay thick across the landscape. 

“But we followed a road,” said Charles desperately. “I don’t understand how we could have lost it.” 

“Not a recent road,” I remarked. I scanned the landscape one more time. A red-tail hawk screamed in the distance. 

“I’m running low on water.” muttered Charles. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, and a prickle of unease crept up my back.

“Er, I’m sure we’ll find the trail soon,” I said, thinking of my own limited water supply. Humidity seemed to soak into my skin. Even though the sun was hidden behind an overcast sky of clouds and smoke, it still felt as though it were a hundred degrees, which was unusual for this high in the mountains. The trees creaked periodically, but there wasn’t a breath of wind. In my mind I begged for even the slightest breeze, but nothing came. 

We’d been warned before we left to be careful in this area. Missing persons cases were frequent. There was a high iron concentration in the natural waters, which had been rumoured to poison drinkers, and had spawned folk tales of people losing their minds out in the wilderness. It was very remote - it had taken us almost 5 hours to drive in on the dirt road alone, which made it difficult to call for help if needed. We’d abandoned cell service miles back. This place was known to the locals for being untouched, which was originally what had driven us here, but we found it strange as we walked along the trail and spotted unusual things. 

We saw no people, but everywhere we went there were signs of humans. Wooden planks, tossed down the side of a hill and rotting. The remains of an old bridge near the stream. What could have been a wheel, overgrown by huckleberry and alpine grasses. And iron - bits of iron everywhere - along the trail, along the old road, and along the scree slopes and patches of forest that ran down the landscape. Bolts, nails, and even the remains of rail carts littered the area, all turned a rusty orange with age. Charles and I had filled our pockets, as it fascinated us to find remnants of history so far back in the wilderness. 

We’d followed the iron nails and bolts until we came to an old road, dusty and out of use. It was Charles who said we should follow it, until we had come to an unknown place at the base of a mountain. The smoke trapped us in a cage of uncertainty. 

“It’s so hot,” gasped Charles, fanning his red shirt up and down. His backpack lay on the ground a few feet away. 

“It’ll cool off before nighttime,” I said nervously. “Maybe we should turn back. There’s nothing up there but those trees and a big drop off.” 

The iron in Charles’ pockets clattered. “That can’t be right,” he said. “The road was right this way. I know it was.” He got up and continued into the trees. 

I wondered if the smoke in our lungs was beginning to affect us. Or maybe it was the ever pulsing, foreboding sound. My ears pounded with the constant drone of the insects. 

Suddenly, Charles gave a cry. I whirled around, my heart momentarily beating faster. “Did you find the trail?” I called. 

“No, but Elijah, come here and see! It’s water!” 

I shook off my backpack and hurried into the grove of trees. Sure enough, a babbling brook erupted from the ground where Charles stood. He was already putting his feet in eagerly. The earth around it was copper toned, but the water itself looked beautifully clear. 

It was wonderful. We gave sighs of relief as we felt the cold water run down our skin, soaking our clothing. It wasn’t long before I was gulping down mouthfuls of the mountain water. It was normal for hikers to drink from springs, and we had been running low on supplies anyway. Charles watched nervously, but I was sure we weren’t drinking enough for it to be harmful. After all, we’d drunk from many springs before. It tasted wonderful, though it left a strange, metallic aftertaste in my mouth. 

“Wasn’t there a creek near the trail?” said Charles, scooping up water with his hat. 

I nodded. “Maybe you were right after all, maybe it is this way. There must be another way down past that drop off.” 

“I’ll have a look,” said Charles, heading down to where the trickle of water ran, his clothes dripping from his body. “Just a little further, I just want to see where this goes.” 

I followed, hopeful. The trees were thicker here, and their branches creaked and moaned. The sky was a grey sheet that grew steadily darker. _The trail will be just around this corner,_ I told myself. _Just around this tree._

As we walked down, the buzzing of insects got louder. I felt cooler now, almost cold.

The stream widened, and hope flashed through my body. I could feel how close we were to the trail! The water began to rush, we were almost there - 

I tripped on something hard and metal, and with a muffled cry I slipped down the hill. Rocks tumbled against my skin and I grabbed onto a huckleberry bush, trying to slow myself. 

I came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, where the trees thinned out. Breathing hard, I lay still. 

Charles was there in a moment. “Are you alright?” he said, leaning down towards me. 

“I’m fine,” I grunted, getting to my feet. A long scratch stung my side. 

We looked around. The stream tricked down the hillside, then turned into the rocks and disappeared. We were in a rocky basin surrounded by mountains and talus slopes on all sides, and as I surveyed the area I realized with dismay that I had no idea where we were. 

Dusk was beginning to fall in the mountains. I could feel the air growing slowly darker, but something felt off in the silent, overcast sky. There was a stillness to the air, like a dream, perhaps somewhere on the edge of a nightmare. 

“We’re lost,” said Charles slowly. “We’re actually lost.”

I crept towards the basin. The trees creaked on either side of me, but still there was no breath of wind. The scraggly bushes seemed to whisper with a susurrus that drew me forward. Charles stood where he was, watching nervously. 

Something felt wrong.

I brushed past a larch, and my toes hit something hard. 

A long piece of rusted iron lay on the ground. It looked like it had once been part of a rail track. I looked ahead, where an old cart was tipped over. Curiosity sparked somewhere in my chest, and I bent down to look closer.

I ran my hands over the copper toned metal, feeling history slide beneath my palm. Fascinated, I walked on ahead, faster now, spotting more and more pieces of iron - a wheel, a pan, a bottle. I found an old axe, with the handle still intact, though the blade was blunt now, and I had the strangest sense I was intruding on someone’s home. I shoved more objects into my pockets and looked around eagerly- there were planks of wood, too, and then - 

Then I came to a clearing. Remains of old wood lay everywhere around me. The smell of sulphur drifted through the air. 

I grew cold, and felt the coming night and the drop in temperature against my wet clothes. I shivered. Smoke hung in the clearing like mist, but I could taste something strange on the air, like rotting eggs. There was a sickness here - it lay over the basin like a blanket, seeping into the cracks between the rocks, and the spaces under my nails. It was ancient, metallic - it ran through the earth, through the air, through the water. 

I suddenly realized what had felt off the whole time we had been in the basin - the insects, which had been so piercing before, had gone completely silent. 

“Elijah?” I heard Charles’ footsteps behind me. His voice echoed against the mountains, the only sound for miles. A hint of anxiety escaped his tone.

“Someone lived here,” I began. “Lots of people. There were carts, and houses…” 

“I don’t like it,” said Charles. “we should go back, and get our packs.” 

“Just wait.” I murmured. A strange feeling was creeping into my mind. “Why would there be a town all the way out here?” 

“Look, Elijah, someone probably just built a cabin out here that got blown down. It’s getting dark, we should go.” 

The iron in my pockets was almost unbearably heavy, but I couldn’t leave it. Somehow, I felt drawn to it, connected to it. 

“There must be something here,” I said, “something they came for. The carts, the rails - they must have been looking for something.” 

I scanned the ground. Could they have found it, perhaps? Could something be hidden here, in this ghost town? My heart began to beat louder in my chest, like a low drum sounding in the deep. My skin was hot and cold at the same time. 

Something small and shiny caught my eye, buried beneath shards of stone. I picked up a small rock, no bigger than a nickel, and as I turned it in my hand it glinted mystically. Tiny flecks were buried in the rock that shone almost effervescently, even in the twilight. The beating of my heart grew louder.

“Elijah?” said Charles quietly, but it sounded faint. Something else was whispering to me - the trees, maybe, or the rusty iron in my pocket, or the mountain itself. I turned the rock over in my hands. 

“Charles, we’re rich.” I said softly, my voice strange and distant. “We’re rich.” 

“No, we’re lost.” 

I shoved the rock in my pocket. Furiously, I scanned the ground, searching for another glint of shining gold. I kicked aside nails and bits of shale. I threw down my hands, already scratched from the fall, and began to crawl across the ground. I didn’t mind the slivers from the rotten wood. My mind felt clogged with smoke and the weight of the iron, but I didn’t notice - the only sound I heard was my heart beating louder and louder, and the whispering, always the whispering. Was that blood or the stains of huckleberries on my palms? 

“Elijah, come on! I don’t feel well, and you look pale…”

I blocked out the voice from behind my ear. All at once came the absence of sound - a violent silence that made my body ache. I scrambled forward, determined to find more gold, to find the source of it. 

The sound of silence was a black hole that grew nearer. Charles’ voice was completely gone. Finally I got up, and when I looked up the slope I saw it: a looming hole carved into the side of the mountain, sitting, like the mouth of some ancient creature, so black it seemed as though it swallowed the twilight. 

“Elijah, no!” Charles' feet sounded behind me, but he was lagging behind. _Must have been something in the water,_ I thought. It didn’t matter, of course. Charles would be rich too. 

I clambered up the talus slope like a mountain goat, my one goal to reach the entrance to the mine, for it must have been a mine. With every step I felt the weight of the iron in my pocket, but I kept going, determined to find whatever was hidden in the gap in the mountain. My blood felt heavy, unbearably so. The silence was deafening. 

I scrambled on all fours. I was almost there. I felt sick, like something was rising up through my blood, ready to push me down, but the prospect of gold was too much. The silence pulsed - it was cavernous, endless. I was inside it, inside the mouth. Black. Abyssal. 

For a moment, I could think of nothing. I looked down on the clearing, with blurred vision, and saw a bustling village with small wooden houses, and ponies drawing carts up towards the mine. I saw the silhouettes of people, drifting in and out like spectres, tearing down the houses and digging desperately into the ground. I opened my mouth in surprise - what were they doing? Before I could say anything, my stomach and head began to spin viciously and I felt something rumble deep in the earth. I turned around into the blackness, where a trickle of copper coloured water ran down into nothing. The silence turned to whispers, and I could hear them, like a ghostly choir, chanting and chanting. It pulsed like the drone of the insects and I could not bear it. In the back of my mind, I knew, and I had known all along. They were in my mind, in the iron, and in the darkness, and the darkness enveloped me. There were people here, and they whispered only one word: _Fool._

Something grabbed my ankle and I screamed, but barely heard my own voice. My mind was past all comprehension. I was going down, down, down into the hole of blackness - there was nothing, it was all spiraling, and all I could feel was the weight, the heaviness. In another universe, Charles was screaming and dragging me down the mountain, as I threw up blood from my stomach. There were rocks falling everywhere, and my last thought was _Gold,_ or maybe it was _Charles._

I couldn’t hear it over the thunderous sound of silence. 

  
  
  


The only sound she heard was the buzzing of insects. It pulsed into her skull, and she clapped her hands over her ears, wishing it would stop.The hot summer air lay like a blanket over the mountains. It must be nearing evening. 

She could have sworn she’d seen the trail a moment ago. 

She wandered the rocky slopes, looking desperately for the way out, or a stream, perhaps, to drink from. Her boots hit something hard and metal, and she bent down to pick it up. 

A single iron nail, so rusty it was hardly recognizable anymore.

It was only a nail. A small thing, really. 

Still, it seemed significant. She tucked it into her pocket. 

The insects droned on. 

  
  



End file.
